Forgotten Dreams
by SpOoKyMuLdEr1
Summary: Political intrigue, Alien agression (with space battles), terrorists... what more could you possibly ask for?
1. Prologue

A/N: As Meatwad would say: "Wazzup Wazzup Wazzup Wazzup in da hizzy!?"

That's right… I'm back! Sorry for the long wait, and I hope the update I just posted will not disappoint anyone who waited. I hope to start allocating more time to this project within the next few weeks. The first actual chapter is here, and I also have plans to go back and 'fix' parts of Legacy that did not, and still do not work quite right (like the entire first chapter!)

If you've already read this prologue, don't bother reading it again. I just went through and fixed the slips that my oh so kind reviewers brought to my attention (I love you guys! And no, I'm not trying to get your beer!… unless it's a Corona)

I don't own Taken… blah blah blah… but I do own my original plot and characters, so hands off Spielberg! I saw that, Sci-Fi channel… stay back!

* * *

LT248, "disputed zone". Galactic Cluster: 1143.

SCT: 09[13]

            Jier watched with feigned indifference. His large, black, almond shaped eyes intently focused on the image of two great Adnean warships projected into the bridge of his command craft on a flickering, Hologram-like display. The trespassers settled into the same orbital plain that Jier's command craft, a _Neei _class patrol cruiser designated simply: '749', currently occupied around a nearby star. Two _Hra'ds_ separated the 749's weapons range from the trespassers.

Enemy intentions are never set in stone, and are seldom carried out. Jier knew that this could just be a continuation of the Adneans foolish bluff. However, the presence of two of the monstrous, primitive Adnean weapons platforms, carved out of asteroids that had been mined hollow, in this sector could mean few things but aggression.

An extension of an aggression that had been allowed to grow for far too long; and over the past two cycles, far out of control.

Now the Adneans were venturing further and further into the disputed territories. Attacking several mineral extraction sites and sticking their _primitive_ noses in places they did not belong. With this sighting, they were now perilously close to LY127, the young planet that occupied most of the High Council's time and resources in the grand plan to 'assist, but not influence' the human race.

This disputed zone, one of a countless multitude, lay in the outer gas cloud of galactic cluster 1143. A very remote and volatile part of the galaxy know as 'Milky Way' by the inhabitance of LY127… peculiar that they had named their own home galaxy such an odd, and non personally descriptive thing… everything about _them _was peculiar though.

            Nas'Lenteni kept the fleet nerve center in high orbit of that planet, "Earth". Jier understood the importance. Has'n had been his commander for cycle upon cycle before he was appointed this command. The human named 'Allie' was a pivotal piece, as well as the entire race of humans, in some great puzzle that Jier had yet to understand. LY127 had to be kept a secret from the Adneans as long as possible. For now, that responsibility rested on Jier.

            _Word of this must get to Has'n!_ Jier did not want to act prematurely. An attack on Adnean vessels might spark the war that was but one false move away. Alternately, it could lead to further investigation of this galaxy by the Adneans. In Jier's judgment, the best way to handle this situation was to continue moving as if this had only been a short stop, and not a patrol point. The Supreme Commander would give the final word though. If Nas'Lenteni ordered the trespassers annihilated, Jier would not hesitate to carry out the command.

            In his mind, Jier composed a short query, and then slid his hand forward on the finger pad to activate the preprogrammed communications link with the _Sally_. The ships systems made the calculations to compensate for stellar drift before a tone in Jier's auditory implant told him it was okay to transmit.

            Before he could start, the Adnean ships lurched forward with several large explosions behind them; thermo-nuclear concussive propulsion systems made stealthy movements impossible. And told Jier all he needed to know. Ships incapable of stealth were built and deployed for one reason only: cheap, expendable attacks.

            Jier eased his opposite hand forward to bring up the weapons console. The rate of movement exhibited by the Adnean craft could only mean one thing…

            The holographic projection of the weapons console flickered then disappeared.

            They were jamming; somehow… _have the Adneans found some new technology?_ Jier wondered. Priorities took over; Jier quickly started the mental transmission. _Nas'Lenteni must know!_

            The last thing Jier saw before the bridge violently depressurized was the image of the lead Adnean warship firing off a burst from its main ion weapon.

* * *


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: as stated in the prologue: I, unfortunately, do not own Taken. But as a result of an oversight by the original writer (we still love ya Les!) of the marvelous series, I am occasionally forced to complete the names of characters. General Beers is not my character, I just gave him a full name. You know him from the show…

Also, I cannot stress enough how important it is to have read Legacy before reading this story. This is part 2.

Anyway… on with it!

Forgotten Dreams: Chapter One …(YAY!!!)

* * *

Early morning traffic pressed in from every lane as the unmarked government Cadillac made its way down 'Embassy Row'. Four star General Lawrence Douglas Beers sat alone in the back of the rather stark, taxpayer-supplied vehicle rhythmically thumping his fingers beside him on the leather seat, and watching the 'scenery' of Washington D.C. pass slowly outside the car.

_Nine years ago..._

General Beers had anticipated retiring out of the public eye, after the alien incidents in North Dakota, Texas, and the global revelations in Seattle only four years ago… he did not want to be involved in the mess anymore!

            He thought that he had avoided it, until the letters arrived. Lawrence prayed that Allie Keys had forgotten about him. That the memories of the incident were locked in the back of her mind as a result of the frenzy of activity around her on a daily basis. The first letter, on official Xean Embassy letterhead, made it very clear that her memory could not be erased that easily.

It was a very persuasive message, the signatures of Secretary Crawford of the Department of E.T. Affairs, and Ambassador Allison Keys herself made it so. A military man does not ignore such important members of his country's government and foreign relations.

            At first, though, that was exactly his plan; _say it was lost in the mail…_However, the next day brought a second, even more compelling letter via plain-clothed currier. On White House stationary, from the pen of the President of the United States. In _the _mans own hand writing. There was no way to dodge that!

They left the General little option in the matter. So here he was, ready to be humiliated by this first meeting in nine years.

            The car pulled to the curb in front of one of the unassuming, plain-faced buildings that lined the street. Lawrence studied the three-story, early American style building while the driver straightened the car in the tiny gap of a parking space. Two tall maples stood at each corner of a very small front lawn. A wide sidewalk ran down the entire street separating the grass from the pavement. Landscaping and trim color were the only things that set each building apart.

            "We're here, sir." The driver announced before quickly getting out to open the door for the general.

            "Regrettably…" The General breathed as he stepped out onto that wide sidewalk.

            Lawrence was not ashamed of the alien incidents, not exactly. That _was_ the only mission in which he had failed to carry out his orders, by letting the girl escape. But it was not a reason for shame; an ironic twist, yes. Considering who he was here to see. It would seem that time finished his mission for him, but with the rolls reversed. The girl caught him.

That was how it felt, as if _he_ had been caught.

            The past was already well alive in Lawrence's mind. Just thinking about the events took him back to re-experience all the misgivings he had about the mission. The orders sounded distasteful in the first place. Going 'fishing' with a little kid on the end of the hook? Back then he had swallowed his consciousness and focused everything on the goal. Only to see now just how pointless it had all been.

            The Embassy's door attendant took several moments noticing Lawrence standing out at the curb. Lawrence caught some movement from the third story window directly above. Just a brief movement of curtains. _The Ambassador? _

The door attendant pressed his hand to his ear, blocking out noise from the ear-piece of his radio. Then the man pulled the door open and gestured without a word for the General to enter.

            As instructed… just as a good soldier would, General Beers climbed up the stairs and entered through the open door. He was shocked by what he saw, or rather, by the lack of what he expected to see in an 'alien' Embassy.

            Rich wood paneling from floor to ceiling, with a white marble floor and a magnificently embellished plaster ceiling. Perfectly in character for a building of this time period. But not a trace of any 'Alien-ness' anywhere to be seen.

            After the initial shock wore off, Lawrence made his way to the reception desk. Again, he was confused by the lack of flags and symbols, besides one small American flag on the counter. _They don't have flags?_

"Welcome!" the young female receptionist greeted him energetically, wearing an odd uniform consisting of a white dress shirt and a black vest. Her hair was rolled up into a bun and she wore small, designer-style glasses, "What can we do for you, sir?"

"Is this the Xean Embassy?" he just had to ask. Nothing was like he expected it to be, so the most obvious assumption was that this was the wrong place… _but the door attendant…_

The receptionist laughed kindly, "yes sir… I get that question a lot."

"Oh…" Lawrence stole one more glance at the furnishings.

"You expected more…"

"I have an appointment…" Lawrence cut the young woman off, "General Beers…"

"Of course, the ambassador is expecting you." she motioned to the elevator on the right wall of the lobby "third floor, right at the end of the hall when the doors open. Cant miss it!" her smile was a mile wide.

General Beers nodded and walked toward the elevator. He pressed the call button and was surprised when the doors snapped open almost instantly… the first taste of unusual technology, Lawrence thought. Stepping into the highly polished interior, he got his second taste of Xean design tastes. The elevator buttons were small, blush gray crystal looking objects, five of them. Some thoughtful person had used a label maker to mark what was what for the elevator's human passengers. General Beers touched his finger to the one labeled '3' and the doors snapped closed.

Several seconds later, the doors reopened, revealing a very different view, and a sign hanging from the ceiling with a large "3". Still, other then the elevator and whatever technology it used to move so fast, this building betrayed no hint of its owners. Low-pile blue carpet stretched down the hallway to the office that Lawrence knew was his destination. The walls were a clean off-white, ornamented by paintings, _normal_ paintings, and the occasional indoor potted plant. The ceiling took on a somewhat less expensive feel with plain tiles in a grid hanger pattern and florescent lighting.

Now General Beers knew he had two new questions to add to the already countless hundreds about why he, an Army General only 2 years from a comfortable retirement, was summoned by none other then the **_President_** to make this appointment before the little girl-turned ambassador that was the essence of his only failure.

The last thing he wanted was for this to be a meet and greet. Reacquaint two former adversaries, if Allie could be called an adversary. He held no ill will toward the girl. It was actually more of a respect for the one who had beaten him at his own game. Every true warrior holds their better in high regard, and Allie Keys had run circles around him and his men.

The third floor seemed deserted. The blue-carpeted hallway was lined with four doors besides the big one at the end. All of them closed. No sounds except for the low electric hum of the overhead lighting.

The General stepped from the elevator and steadied himself on the soft carpet. Thirty-nine years of military service has a tendency to wear a body out. Perhaps sixty-five was too late for retirement…

Composing himself, General Beers started down the hall, putting on the confident, slightly arrogant air that he believed a man of his standing should always carry with him. Eyes straight forward, head held high, pride dripping from his crisply pressed dress uniform; an ideal form to command respect even from those in a higher position.

He reached the door in short order, but something in his bulletproof persona crumbled when it came time to knock. General Beers stood at the door for more then a minute deliberating. The quickest thing to do would be to carry on his arrogant attitude and just barge in, demanding to know why he was called. He moved his hand from the doorknob though and instead gently rapped it against the wooden surface several times.

The knob spun quickly with a mechanical action and a small pneumatic cylinder along the top hissed briefly before gracefully swinging the door open. An interesting piece of machinery, but it was standard equipment in the Pentagon.

At first, General Beers saw no one in the surprisingly small office. A desk occupied the center of the far wall, framed by two tall windows. The same blue carpet and unimpressive ceiling tiles continued into this room, but the walls were slightly different. The third sign of alien technology: A small dome of some metallic substance sat atop a pedestal casting a holographic image onto one of the end walls. General Beers continued surveying the room until his eyes fell on the person he had been summoned to meet.

She was laying sideways on the couch, arms folded under her chin resting on the couch's armrest, eyes fixed on the small fish tank that occupied the end table. General Beers waited at first, thinking that at any moment she would say something. Moments came and went. Finally, General Beers shifted in his coat and cleared his throat.

"I know…" came her voice, finally. It was decidedly more mature, but still had the same tonal quality that General Beers remembered from nine years ago. "You can… sit over there… or something."

One of Lawrence's eyebrows involuntarily raised. That greeting was severely lacking in professionalism, especially from an ambassador. Maybe it was motivated by personal feelings… was she still harboring a grudge from the incident?

But, Allie and the Crawford woman were reportedly good friends. How could she hold a grudge against a minor functionary and not against one of the architects of the whole project? General Beers convinced himself that he was merely catching her in down time. It was eight twenty-five in the morning, after all.

Allie righted herself on the couch, straightened out the shoulders of her tan three-button blazer and the collar of the blouse underneath it, and tucked several strands of her long blond hair back behind her ears before standing up. General Beers watched with a less then impressed expression. He was somewhat taken aback by what passed as a Xean dignitary… very unprofessional behavior…

"Please," Allie gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk. General Beers took the invitation if only to create a sense of purpose to this already strange encounter. He still watched from the corner of his eye as Allie stood from the couch and made her way around the room to turn off the unusual projector, and then took her seat behind the desk.

"I apologize, General, my mornings are not usually spent in this office."

Lawrence stared at her for a moment, the transformation from careless kid to mature stateswoman had happened fast. He was sure that he had seen it though. Like a switch had been thrown and the lights in her clear blue eyes brightened to a new intensity. There was a definite energy in the room.

Allie correctly registered The Generals hesitation: "this must be awkward for you. Why don't we start with reintroductions? …What happened in the past should stay there."

To that, General Beers nodded approvingly, "that's very professional of you."

"You expected less?" Allie asked in jest. She was fascinated by the way time had shaped the man before her. His had been one of the vivid faces in her memories, mostly because she had taken on his form. His short hair was still cropped military-style, but it had grayed. As with all older people, wrinkles start to obscure features, but the ones the General wore, he wore proudly; as the result of responsibility and hard work. They more then made up for the odd lack of medals on his dress uniform that Allie had first noted.

Lawrence cleared his throat, "…I assume this is more then a social call."

Allie settled into her high-backed leather chair, expression revealing something General Beers could only recognize as reserved excitement. Then she said: "I don't make social calls on people I hardly know… you were singled out for a project."

General Beers flinched inwardly; his stark military façade showed no signs however, "A 'project'? I've been assigned to 'projects' before, most were unpleasant…"

"Well, then, let's call this a program." Allie started to reach for something in her top desk drawer but glanced back up to the general as an afterthought, asked: "'Program' is acceptable language?"

"It's… more acceptable, yes."

"That's good… I'd like to avoid pulling out a dictionary to appease your tastes."

General Beers forced a weak grin at the good-humored jab to his ribs while Allie retrieved a small gray plate from the top drawer of her desk. It was thin, like paper, but when she placed it on the desk, it made a sound like a thin piece of ceramic sliding against another. Taking a closer look, Lawrence could see small markings on the plate's surface that he did not recognize as any language he knew about. Allie noticed him studying it.

"Don't concern yourself with what it says…" she told him, then stood from her chair and made sure to push it back out of her way. With both hands, one on either side, she gently picked up the fragile looking object and started with it back around her desk to the small pedestal that held what Lawrence suspected was an alien projector; the same device that had been projecting a hologram when he had first entered.

Lawrence knew he was out of his element. Allie was obviously doing something in relation to their meeting, but what? Saving face, he decided it best not to ask any unnecessary questions, and instead watched as she placed the plate on the pedestal, then placed the small projector device in the center of it.

Avoiding eye contact, Allie turned away from the pedestal and walked back to her chair without a word. Only then, while settling back into the chair, did she glance back up at the General. The whole sequence of events seemed needlessly theatrical to Lawrence, and he was determined not to fall for it… whatever 'it' was…

"May I ask how your family is?" Allie said in a very odd, knowing tone.

General Beers contemplated his reply for a moment. It was obvious just from the way she asked that she already knew what his answer would be. So he just said it: "all dead, except for my brother in Michigan."

_Never married, no kids, parents dead… she already knows all this._

Allie nodded an almost imperceptible amount, "and this brother is in the military as well?"

The way she asked that question told General Beers that she already knew all about his brother too, probably even more then he did. They had not been on speaking terms since their father's funeral. Still, he nodded to confirm her question.

"But you don't get along well with him… 'Bradley', do you?"

Again, General Beers nodded affirmative, but he was starting to feel like he was being interrogated just for the girl's pleasure. He never did like being under any sort of spotlight.

"Excuse me for asking, but what does my family have to do with anything?"

Allie grinned slightly, not a nice smile, but a forced one, as if she only did it because it was the socially acceptable thing to do.

"Nothing at all… I just had to hear you say it, or nod it, as the case may be." Allie said, then leaned forward and placed both hands on the desk in a relaxed posture, "are you interested in this program?"

General Beers was confused. Either he was losing his short-term memory, or she had forgotten to tell him just what this 'program' was. "I… don't know…"

Allie smirked, "that's because you really 'don't know'…"

"Then enlighten me." The General offered, he was starting to lose his patience, "I'm always up for a good story." _This one has to be good… why else bring me here by presidential summons?_

"Right to the point! I _knew_ you were the right person for this job."

"That depends…"

"Yes, yes… the 'program'." Allie shifted her eyes toward the small device on the pedestal. The projection jumped out against the wall instantaneously. General Beers could not tell what he was seeing at first, but soon, it became clear when an intensely bright ball of light crested around a large round object. The light: Earth's star, the round object: Earth itself. Centered in the projection was a slender Xean spacecraft. One of the large ones. General Beers had been privileged enough to see one on several occasions.

"'She' has been christened: "Star-1"," Allie told him, forcing out the obviously distasteful name, "but that will change when a commander is picked."

Allie smiled again when General Beers looked to her for further explanation, this time it was not a forced social device. He said: "I still don't quite understand…"

"Of course not!" Allie stood and walked back around the desk, this time she had something else in her hands that Lawrence did not see her pull from anywhere. It looked like a small file folder. He had no more time to analyze it before Allie handed it to him. Inside the decorative folder was an unsigned commission certificate.

"Who's is this?" General Beers asked.

"Yours, if you want it." Allie spoke plainly, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

General Beers could only stare questioningly, causing Allie to sigh loudly. "You just couldn't do this the fun way?"

She paced away from the General's chair toward the projector device. "Very well… the "program", as we are calling it, is more of an education exchange, of sorts. Xean Fleet Command has made five ships of the main line available for 'Human Education Platforms'." Allie paused, "meaning exactly what it sounds like…"

"And how am I related to this?" he asked, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him everything he needed to know.

"The commission should say it all… but… these five ships have been retrofitted for direct human interface and control. This one," Allie gestured at the ship in the projection, "already has about 56% of its crew filled by humans, US military personnel and civilian scientist. All the command stations are still filled by Xean Fleet personnel.

"Star-1 has been promised to this country alone… the Xean Fleet Council thinks that it is important to have the 'most powerful' group of humans in sole control of one asset. The remaining four have been promised to the UN to be staffed internationally."

"So, you want me…?" he knew he should have seen it sooner… still, it made no sense!

"Yep." Allie grinned giving the overly simple reply.

"But…" General Beers struggled to understand the reasoning, "I'm an army officer… Wouldn't a navy man be a better choice?" It sure seemed that way to him!

"Yeah…" again with the simplicity…

"Then…?" He let the question hang, not quite knowing what to say. The opportunity was intriguing, to put it lightly, but Lawrence did not think himself qualified to take such a command.

"Just work with me here." Allie walked around behind his chair and leaned on the back, getting strangely close to his ear and whispering: "I pulled on a lot of strings to get you nominated."

"Why?"

"Because… I like your attitude."

_Of all the stupid, immature… my 'attitude'?_ General Beers closed the small folder and tossed it to the desk. Spoke without turning: "I don't think you have given this enough thought Miss Keys. I'm sorry--" Lawrence stood from the chair, causing Allie to stand back, "--to have wasted your time."

All traces of friendliness faded from Allie's face as she watched the General make his way toward the door.

"Not enough thought…" she muttered.

General Beers did not stop or say a word in reply.

"You do not even know what goes into my thoughts!" Allie turned away from him and walked back around the desk to the comfort of her big chair. Lawrence paused momentarily and half-glanced back over his shoulder, then reached for the door-knob… which was locked hard. It would not turn or even jiggle.

"Imagine; a million scenarios playing out across a black stage." Allie said, soberly, "I can see countless possibilities, every one slightly similar, but very different. Causal loops that extrapolate into infinity… no, dear General, you are the one who has not given this enough thought."

"Open the door…" Lawrence said calmly, as if he had not heard a word she said. He had heard though, and the tone of her voice spooked him.

"Out of all those scenarios, you're image kept popping up. I cannot explain why I even thought of you; but, there are many things about myself that I cannot explain in human terms."

The small commission folder levitated off the desk, slowly rising to the General's eye level. Then it shot across the room with blinding speed and smacked against the door next to Lawrence's head. There it stayed as if held by glue.

"You will think about this assignment." Allie told him flatly, "I can make that a presidential order."

_Two years 'till retirement…_ Lawrence saw no way out of the office without accepting the commission document. He hated to admit it to himself, but the way the girl was acting scared the shit out of him. _Eighteen years old and she acts this serious…_

He peeled the folder off the door like a magnet off the refrigerator and just stared at it for what seemed like several minutes before Allie spoke again.

"Take it with you," the doorknob turned on its own and the door slowly swung in toward the General, "I want an answer by this time next week… don't disappoint me."

Still turned away from her, Lawrence said: "I'll see what I can do," then walked out into the hall.

Allie willed the door closed behind him and held her breath until the locks clicked. Then she released her breath in a loud sigh and flopped onto the desk. _I hate doing that…_ she thought. She stayed that way for several minutes before pushing herself up and out of the chair.

_It's _WAY_ too early…_she thought, stripping the stuffy long sleeved blazer off and draping it across the chair the general had occupied only minutes ago; then she draped herself back across the couch to resume the morning fish-watch.

_Going home this weekend… then Japan on Monday, India by Wednesday…crazy-house by next weekend… and that's only if the nuts don't blow something else up! _

Allie moved her arm from chin support duty and picked up the small tube of fish food, sprinkled a few flakes into the tank and watched the dumb little creatures vacuum it up.

_I want to be a fish… _she thought, _eat, poop, eat again… no worries…_

Allie rolled over, her eyes traced along one of the metal tracks holding the ceiling tiles up.

"No worries…"

* * *

I can be reached at AIM: Catrox1234 (almost all the time) and ICQ#: 233-127-143 (some times… I don't use it much). Please leave a review or tell me what you think in person(IM)! 


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